“Something’s still bothering you,” Riker said, pausing in mid-move. “And I don’t think it has anything to do with our counseling staff.”

Frane turned back to face Riker. “No. It had more to do with the many…nonhumans I see aboard this ship.”

Riker’s eyebrows rose, then he reminded himself that the Neyel Excelsior’s reports had described had been nothing if not xenophobic and paranoid. Discovering that Frane perhaps shared those characteristics should have come as no surprise. Still, the thought came as something of a disappointment, considering the close relationship between humans and Neyel.

“Are you referring to any particular member of the crew?”

“At the moment…yes,” Frane said, and nodded toward a table located near the exit. Admiral Akaar sat at the table, quietly sipping a hot beverage that might have been tea. He was looking over his mug directly at Frane.

“His eyes,” the Neyel said, almost inaudibly. “So dark and cold and judgmental. He reminds me of my father.”

Riker suppressed a smile. Welcome to the club,he thought, recalling those all-too-infrequent occasions when his own father, the late Kyle Riker, had been present for mealtime staring contests of this very kind.

Riker suddenly felt a much greater degree of emotional rapport with Frane than he had since the Neyel had first asked him for permission to stay aboard Titan.

“I could go over there and ask him not to stare,” Riker said quietly, leaning forward conspiratorially.

Frane started at that, apparently having taken the suggestion more seriously than Riker had intended it.

“I was kidding,” Riker said, taking one of Frane’s rooks. Somehow, he hadn’t expected Frane to play the game so inattentively. “Whatever’s bothering you, I can tell there’s more going on than simple rudeness from Starfleet’s admiralty.”

Frane appeared to realize all at once that it was again his turn to move. His knight took the bishop with which Riker had captured the red rook. “You’re right. It’s not just your admiral.”

“What, then?”

“It’s…your entire crew.”

That blunt declaration brought Riker up short. “I’m quite proud of this crew, Mr. Frane. It’s the most diverse group of sentients currently serving in the entire fleet.”

“I don’t doubt that for an instant. But…”

Riker sighed, his impatience getting the better of him. “But?”

Frane cleared his throat and started over. “You keep assuring me that your intentions are benign. Yet you’ve acquired slaves from just about every world across your galaxy.”

Riker was glad he wasn’t drinking anything at that moment; he almost certainly would have sprayed a generous amount across the chessboard and into Frane’s lap. “Slaves?”

“You run this ship and command her crew, don’t you?”

“Titanis under my command, yes.”

“And you’re a human. Commander Vale, your first officer, is also a human. Commander Troi, your diplomatic officer—whom I’m given to understand is also your wife—is half-human, and certainly looks human enough to pass for one, as does that staring admiral—”

Nettled, Riker interrupted. “What are you saying?”

“Only that this ‘diverse’ crew of which you are so proud answers to a small group of powerful humans—or else to beings who so resemble humans that no one can tell the difference. Just as most of the elder species of M’jallanish space answer to a relative handful of their Neyel overlords.”

Riker watched in stunned silence as a cold-eyed Frane moved the red queen, placing Riker’s white king in check. The Neyel began absently playing with the bracelet on his wrist as he continued looking down at the board.

“You obviously missed a lot of the nuances of our historical database,” the captain said at length. “Our Federation is based on mutual cooperation. Not conquest.”

Frane looked up at him. “Then why do humans seem to be at the top of all of the Federation’s most significant hierarchies?”

Riker castled, buying himself a move or two. “The Federation Council has always had equal representation, Frane, and a good number of nonhuman presidents. Bolians, Grazerites, Andorians, Efrosians—”

“But a human sits in that office presently. Correct? And humans have held it more often than any other single species.”

Riker found that he was back in check yet again. “Humans are a big constituency in the Federation, Neyel racial guilt notwithstanding. So, yes, garden-variety humans are bound to get into the Palais de la Concorde from time to time. But that doesn’t make us conquerors. I admit that humans have assumed a large role in running the Federation. It’s a heavy burden of responsibility, but it’s one we share freely with many other species. Humans also assume our fair share of the risks involved in maintaining and defending the Federation. But the Federation is a big place, and we don’t see ourselves as having—or deserving—a dominant position in it.”

Frane looked impressed, if not altogether convinced. “What about that large, white-skinned fellow I saw when I visited your doctor in sickbay?”

“You mean Mekrikuk. He’s a Reman—they’re recent wartime allies from outside the Federation—and he came aboard temporarily just before the…accident that brought us here.”

“Ah. I noticed that he seems to be confined to your infirmary, even though very little appears to be wrong with him. Is his enslavement justified by his being from ‘outside the Federation’?”

Riker sighed, unused to such cynicism, particularly from someone of Frane’s tender years. “Mekrikuk is no slave, Frane. At least, not since we freed him from those who hadenslaved him and his people. At the moment, Dr. Ree is still keeping him under observation. But I won’t lie to you—Mekrikuk does present us with certain…security concerns.”

Riker felt uncomfortable being reminded that he wasn’t going to be able to keep Mekrikuk detained this way forever. Once he was well enough that Ree felt he could discharge him, the Reman would have to be declared either friend or foe, bound for either guest quarters or a security cell. And Mekrikuk himself had complicated matters greatly by having made a formal request for political asylum.

Riker was also beginning to feel discomfiture about something else: the notion that some of the prejudices Frane was projecting onto him might, even in some small way, be real. He considered the initial revulsion he’d felt when Deanna had introduced him to Dr. Ree. And Frane’s trenchant observation that despite Titan’s highly variegated crew, humans dominated the ship’s command hierarchy. Am Ireally as species-blind as I’ve always given myself credit for being? When I chose Chris to be my exec, was itreally because I thought she was the best candidate? Or was it because I thought I might relate better to a human first officer?

It suddenly became very important to Riker to end this particular debate. “Let me ask you something, Frane: Should I assume the aliens we found with you in your escape pod are yourslaves, just because of your people’s history as slavers?”

“But they wereslaves of my people, in reality if not in legal fact. At least, that’s very much how it seemed before we came together in common brotherhood as the Seekers After Penance.”

“Ah. Your pilgrimage to wake up the Sleeper. And to punish the Neyel for being slavers, as well as everyone else around here for having allowed the Neyel to enslave them.”

Frane gave a rueful nod, his eyes haunted. He looked as though he was ready to bolt. Riker decided that now might be a good time to change the subject.

“That’s an interesting bracelet,” he said, looking down at Frane’s gray wrist. The Neyel’s tail suddenly rose behind him, going rigid as his other hand pulled the sleeve of his robe down to cover up the bracelet. Obviously, it meant a great deal to him.